City of Chaos
by ParisKitten
Summary: Two universes that couldn't be more different. Two worlds separated by endless space. Two mayhem-loving freaks transported out of their worlds and into an entirely new one. Jinx and Junkrat. The embodiments of chaos for two worlds that were never meant to collide. Now transported to a city that has never seen such discord in its history. What could possibly *not* go wrong?
1. Foreword

Hey guys! This is not my first fanfiction, but it's my first on this site. If you want to check out my Five Nights at Freddy's fanfiction, or my epic Overwatch fanfiction trilogy, go check out my Wattpad account - my username is PurrPurrParis.

Love you all! Have fun reading! I certainly had fun writing.


	2. Chapter One: Bombs and Bullets

Tick.

"Now?" Junkrat whined.

Roadhog shook his head.

Tock.

"Now?" Junkrat moaned, his thumb twitching on the trigger.

Another shake of the head.

Tick.

Jamison Fawkes, alias Junkrat, had his back pressed against the wall. He had a home-made detonator in hand, the metal rusted and stained with a bright red button crowning it. He held it in his left hand, which was flesh and bone - a dirty green fingerless glove wrapped around it with the same rusty, dirty feeling as the detonator.

As the rest of Jamison himself.

His lower right arm was a mash of orange metal, car parts and old tech retrofitted to his arm. It was garish and angry-looking in the morning sunlight, holding the most ridiculous-looking gun - his beloved frag launcher. Also a mishmash of parts with six grenades loaded into its haphazardous reloading tray, held together with duct tape, sweat and zero regrets. His lower right leg was an advanced peg leg, the same rusted orange as his arm and frag launcher, and it was slightly longer than his ordinary leg, leaving his stance in a permanent crouch - but it did little to stunt his ridiculous height of 6'6". His hair was slicked back with years of grease, the blond locks tipped with smolders, a few still on fire. His eyes were a wild golden, the gold of a burning city at sunset or the fire of a nuclear mushroom cloud. The golden of riches and mayhem.

Beside him was a figure who dwarfed him not in height but in sheer size. The man - Mako - was enormous, a wasteland hulk. Absolutely huge. His enormous belly fell out over his belt, a huge tattoo declaring wild hog blaring across the front with a picture of a small pig with flaming exhausts behind it. His face was hidden by an enormous gas mask, giving him the appearance of a pig - and his alias, Roadhog.

The Australian demolition duo. Some might call them outlaws. Everyone called them criminals.

Jamison was pretty sure he was the only one who called them "demolitionists without borders" but hey, who cared?

Vishkar corporation. His polar opposite. The Indian corporation bent on perfection and order. On rebuilding the world after the Omnic Crisis destroyed it.

Oh, how he would enjoy this.

"Please please please," Junkrat begged.

Roadhog sighed heavily, and nodded.

Junkrat laughed maniacally, a grin as broad as the ocean, and pressed the trigger.

KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM.

The building's foundations roared and Junkrat screeched in sheer glee, intoxicated by the flames and the destruction. Alarms blared as the outpost shuddered, fire and smoke from dozens of explosives sending the building into chaos.

Roadhog grunted, interrupting Junkrat's euphoria. He rolled his eyes. "Oh right, we're here for the dosh."

And they sprinted off into the vault they had just blown wide open.

Junkrat laughed as they pulled tech into sacks, whatever was handy - he had no idea what was valuable and what was scrap. But hey, no job too big, no score too small, right?

"There they are!"

Jamison and Mako both leapt to their feet as Vishkar employees raced into the vault. Their white uniforms matching with the surrounds and in stark contrast to the garish outback colours of the dynamic duo.

Junkrat grinned. "Oi Roadie. You get outta here. I've got a bone to pick with a few o' these buggers."

Roadhog sighed, his voice husky and broken from the mask and years of radiation. "You sure?"

"I'll meetcha outside, eh?" Junkrat laughed, and took a defensive stance. "Get that Harley ready for me."

Roadhog nodded, and made himself scarce.

Junkrat turned to face his adversaries.

The Vishkar employee at the front snarled. "Stand down, Junkrat! Drop the tech!"

"You buggers wish," Jamison laughed, and the Concussion Mines by the entrance went off.

Vishkar employees went sailing in all directions, and Junkrat hollered with laughter as the room went into anarchy. Small spaces plus bombs that ricochet off walls equals total, unrestricted mayhem.

At least until they set up one of those goddamn shield generators.

"Well fuck me," Junkrat grumbled, and sprinted from the room, firing behind him.

Where to go, where to go-

There were no windows in this place. Why were there no windows? The walls were far too thick to blow through, which was how he usually escaped.

"Stop him!" roared the dark-haired employee who'd yelled at him before.

"Yer all so rude here," Junkrat complained, dropping a steel trap behind him. The dark-haired one managed to dodge, but the guy behind him wasn't so lucky. The bear trap snapped over his legs and a god-almighty shout echoed off the walls as it probably broke at least one bone.

"Aha!" Junkrat grinned as a door appeared to his left. He darted inside-

-and was almost blinded by the bright blue of a huge portal right in front of him. It looked like something out of a Hollywood film. A huge pool of endless blue, terrifyingly endless. Glowing from inside. No telling where it led. Or what it did at all.

Junkrat threw as many concussion mines as he had on him at the rim and yanked out his detonator as they armed themselves.

He whirled to face his oppressors. They raced in but froze upon seeing the mines on the portal.

"Jamison Fawkes," the dark-haired employee said in a low voice. "You are to lower your weapon and disarm the bombs. This is volatile technology, imperfect. There's no telling what it could do."

"Tell me, mate," Junkrat asked wistfully, his thumb circling the trigger. "Where does it lead?"

"Nowhere," the man said desperately. "To a place between dimensions. It's barely stable, if you damage it-"

Junkrat rolled his eyes. As if he couldn't see them slowly getting closer to him. He might be insane but he wasn't stupid.

Usually.

Okay, so maybe what he did next wasn't proving his point, but hey. Freedom came with a price.

"I'll see you buggers in hell," Junkrat grinned.

And he set off the mines.

Roaring filled the room and the blue portal turned red as fire exploded from its ring. The Vishkar employees ran at him, some trying to get to the controls desperately. But some coming for him, like the enraged dark-haired guy lunging at him.

"You jet, Roadie," Junkrat said into his walkie-talkie. "I'll catch yeh when I catch yeh."

And he turned around, leaping into the portal of endless red fire.

"Woo-hoooooo!"

* * *

Okay, so maybe it was a bit overkill. But for stupid fat-hands, there were no lengths that Jinx wouldn't go to.

The outlaw who called herself Jinx giggled maniacally. Her faithful weapons - Pow-Pow, Fishbones and of course her Super Mega Death Rocket - were all strapped to her thin body, looking too heavy and unwieldy for her stick-like figure. Her grey-white skin was all colours under the hundreds of lights of the concert, one of the first in a long time, and her knee-length blue braids were pulled back by a huge pin. Her purple-red eyes glinted in the semi-darkness.

Of course, it had been thrown by the Enforcers as a way of drawing her out of her hidey-hole.

Jinx snorted. What a stupid idea. How were they supposed to see her in this crush of bodies? Her weapons were concealed by a dumb costume fit for all the rich people here, and you could barely look at her when the lights passed over her because she was so damn bright. Best of all, she looked like she had twice the muscle mass that she actually did, and nobody had any idea it was her.

Dumb fat-hands. Who picked a concert for something like this?

She giggled to herself, completely inaudible over the crazy loud music, and looked out over the sea of people. It had been a while since the city had seen something like this, and it was kinda nice - except that it was all fake.

It was all taking place inside some super magic techy thing that the League had set up after fat-hands had asked for their help in catching her. She probably offered them something because the league never did things like this - catching criminals wasn't really their style.

Old fat-hands probably hadn't even told them it was for catching her. She probably said it was for releasing magical energy or some crap like that.

There she was. Jinx tipped her hat as she saw Vi, old fat-hands, to the side of the stage. Scanning the crowd.

Jinx pulled out her pink spray-paint and scrawled across one of the walls the words, bombs would have been too easy, fat-hands.

Sheathing her can, she kept moving towards the front. See what colour the lights made the rich gangs look with steel in their skin.

That'd end the party pretty quick.

But the fun would be far from over.

She walked straight into the sound stage area. Nobody stopped her. With a costume this fancy, she probably looked exactly like one of the richest riches that ever had the audacity to rich. It was all too easy to swipe one of the spare microphones - and even easier to stalk on stage.

The sound was so loud up here she could hardly hear herself think. Not that Jinx thought that often. But right here, on the side of the stage, it tasted like mayhem. The air vibrated with every beat of the drums, the guitar roaring.

She might have enjoyed it if old fat-hands wasn't here.

There she was. On the other side of the backstage area. Fat hands crossed, looking over the crowd. Still looking for a face that was right in front of her.

"Rich pieces of crap!" she hollered through the microphone. Her voice, amplified two hundredfold by the huge speakers, rocketed through the arena like her Super Mega Death Bomb, and the music quickly stopped.

She could see old fat-hands looking around in panic, yelling at someone to find her. If only she would just look across the stage...

"Welcome to my performance!" she laughed. People started murmuring, looking around nervously. Rich pieces of filth. Pilties. Didn't care about anyone except themselves.

Jinx ripped off her costume, throwing the pin behind her just as fat-hands looked across the stage. Her mouth dropped open as Jinx yanked Pow-Pow into position, and the machine gun hummed as it loaded up.

She saw fat-hands running across the stage, sprinting to cover the musicians.

Jinx's eyes flashed.

"And the main event is about to begin!"

Pow-Pow roared as bullets sprayed across the stage. People stopped murmuring and started screaming, and Jinx laughed as fat-hands roared, staving off bullets with her armored fists.

"Fine then," she snarled gleefully. "If I can't have them... I'll have you!"

She turned Pow-Pow on the crowds.

They screamed and ran, stumbling over each other and flooding for the exits. Bullets ricocheted off the floors and hit the walls, destroying some of the magicky-techy things that were making this place look like an open concert. The dark, massive room revealed itself, with just the stage and some speakers left.

Fat-hands managed to get the musicians to safety and roared, running towards her. "Jinx, stop!"

Jinx laughed maniacally as she leapt off the stage, chasing the fleeing crowds. "Keep up, fat-hands."

"This place is a highly unstable combination of magic and technology," fat-hands shouted. "Jinx you could rip a hole in the fabric of reality!"

Jinx slung Fishbones up onto her shoulder and launched a rocket at fat-hands. She crossed them, taking the full brunt of the explosion and getting blasted backwards for her trouble.

Jinx laughed. "That was your plan, fat-hands?" She turned her attention back to the fleeing worthless richies. "Hey, you get back here! I'm not done shooting you!"

Fat-hands streaked down from the stage and Jinx had enough sense left in her head to roll away, yanking out Fishbones again ad aiming it at the dumb enforcer. As Fishbones let fly a rocket, fat-hands dodged and it exploded against a wall.

There was a very loud shrieking sound before the walls started to crack. Eerie red started spilling from the imperfections, and right behind Jinx, they were growing.

"Did I break something?" Jinx asked idly.

The doors slammed shut after the last of the Pilties. Jinx rolled her eyes. "Did you really think I'd fall for this, fat-hands? You really think I wouldn't blow this place to smithereens just because of-" she put a childish slur on the last two words. "reality fabric."

Jinx fired into the wall again, and the whole structure groaned, the cracks growing brighter until some of the pieces fell away, sucked into a vortex. "You really are just a dumb pair of fists, aren't you? Bet you weren't even born in the slums if you haven't seen one of these before."

"That isn't a portal to the sister-dimension, Jinx! I've seen them and that is not one of them!"

Strong wind, or some kind of suction, started pulling Jinx backwards. She was thin but her weapons weighed her down, and she had to dig her feet in to stay in the same place. Her eyes darted around - no level of grand plan could have prepared her for this. She'd just have to wing it.

She launched another rocket at fat-hands and once again she dodged, the room roaring. Jinx was knocked off her feet as the current dragged her backwards.

And suddenly, she saw a wild, stupid and goddamn insane way out.

Just her style.

Jinx put on a terrified face as she was taken right off her feet and whirled towards the blood red vortex behind her. She flailed wildly, reaching towards fat-hands. Her eyes wide, she yelled, "Vi!"

"Oh no you don't!" Vi shouted, rocketing forwards. Right as Jinx was about to be sucked away, one hand dug deep into the concrete and the other reached for her hand. The massive golden fist closed over her hand. "You're not... escaping... now!"

Jinx clutched to her hand desperately. "Oh fat-hands."

The terror in her eyes turned to glee. "Oh, stupid fat hands." Her eyes flashed. "I'll see you later, hey?"

The chomper on Vi's arm clamped down hard.

Vi's face went white.

"Bye-bye!" Jinx giggled.

The bomb went off, and Jinx squealed as she was sucked away into the blood red portal. "Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"


	3. Chapter Two: The Not-Here Place

Jinx groaned. Her head was pounding, slightly more than usual, and Fishbones was digging into her back like nobody's business. There was this annoying sound, a loud shrieking whine that wouldn't shut up. She could feel crumbly dust and rocks on her skin and taste blood - she must've bitten her tongue on the way through that death-portal.

She yawned, reaching back to shove Fishbones off her with a pale, stick-thin arm. Her eyes opened a crack and she took a look around.

It was a bit hard to see, what with the blaring red light bathing the room in red, but it was pretty difficult to not see the rocks and pieces of wall splayed around and beneath her. It looked like a wall had been blown out from behind her. In front of her, in a perfect circle, was a ring of shattered glass, probably where a wall of glass had been and was now destroyed by some sort of explosion. Beyond it was a destroyed console for some kind of technology, and six people in white coats bolting for the door as the klaxon blared overhead.

Jinx spat rubble and dust from her mouth. Shielding her eyes from the bright red light from behind her, she squinted, dragging the blue hair out of her eyes so she could look back.

"Woah," she breathed.

It was a massive, upright ring of metal, smooth and sleek, and almost brushed the high ceiling. It hummed with life and energy, thrumming through her bones, and suspended in the middle stretching from edge to edge was a massive circle of blood red. It was like the portal she had gone through, but it was more solid - like water. Opaque, red blood that shone with otherworldly presence.

And if that thing had any magic in it, Jinx would eat her boots.

Glancing back towards the door the scientists had disappeared into, she blew the hair out of her eyes and pulled herself up into a sitting position.

Yeah, this was definitely not the concert hall.

Looking around her, she realized that the pieces of wall and metal around her were from the concert hall itself - the walls collapsing in on each other and sucked away to... uh, wherever the hell 'here' was.

It sure wasn't Piltover.

But also around her were pieces of sleek white metal and plastic. Huh. Where had those come from?

She stood up, brushing the dust off her arms and slinging Fishbones and Pow-Pow back into place. She walked over to one, swiping the grit off the side to reveal a blue logo. Vishkar Corporation.

That definitely wasn't from the concert hall.

There was a groan to her right and she jumped back, slinging Pow-Pow into place at her hip and twitching her finger over the trigger. She grinned, Pow-Pow humming with life. "Who goes there?"

She'd always wanted to say that.

A pile of rubble moved, and Pow-Pow's barrels swung to focus on it as someone sat up. Covered in dust and rubble, like her, was a weird-looking human. He was near as stick-thin as her, but had a physically strong torso - probably a result of carrying the massive tire on his back with spikes sticking out of the rubber and a maniacal laughing grenade stitched onto the side. It was strapped on with some grenade belts over his chest and he was wearing cameo shorts that looked like they hadn't seen soap or even water in a decade. He had blonde hair (it was hard to tell through all the rubble) slicked back into long locks behind him with the tips literally on fire and a canteen at his belt. There was a very homemade-looking frag launcher just out of his reach of his also very homemade-looking prosthetic arm and what looked like a peg leg.

He looked kind of like an angry tanned lobster pirate.

"This ain't Vishkar," he grumbled, before his eyes reached her and Pow-Pow. His gaze travelled up the gun and to Fishbones, and then her Super Mega Death Rocket.

He raised an eyebrow. "Well that's a fine how-do-you-do."

His voice was weird. Not only did it dip low and screech high in random parts of a sentence, it had an accent like nothing she'd ever heard, and it screamed I don't care as if he had a sign over his head. Rough and hard-done-by.

And if there was a magical bone in this guy's body, Jinx would eat her Zapper.

"I've got a lotta bullets to spare, pal," Jinx snapped with a grin. "Who are you?"

The strange man stood up, collecting his frag launcher and bowing dramatically. "Jamison Fawkes, at your service." He glanced around at the blaring klaxon and shattered glass. "... Nice place you got here."

"This dump?" Jinx scoffed. "This isn't mine. I got shot through a portal and ended up here." She peered at him through overly-squinted eyes. "You weren't at the concert hall, were you?"

"Last time I went to a concert," Jamison dusted off his frag launcher, "I blew the joint to smithereens." His golden eyes looked skeptically at her. "What on earth are you?"

"What, haven't you seen a Zaunite before?"

"The fuck's a Zaunite?"

Before Jinx could retort something undoubtedly funny and witty and sarcastic, the doors burst open and a dozen black-clad people ran in with weapons trained on them. Covered head-to-toe in black gear and visors, they were holding some kind of energy projection weapon that looked like nothing she'd ever seen. It sure didn't shoot bullets.

"Stand down," one of them growled, its voice metallic and synthetic through the visor. "Lower your weapons."

Jinx giggled. Then she chuckled, and then she was laughing so hard she could barely contain herself. The guards looked around in bewilderment at her hysteria, unsure.

Then she abruptly stopped and glanced at Jamison. "You gonna join me, peg leg, or am I putting bullets through your brain too?"

"Ready when you are, blue-braids," he grinned.

Her grin grew wide and maniacal as she slung Pow-Pow down in front of her to face the guards. Red eyes flashing in the light, skin practically glowing, she levelled the machine gun.

"Say hello to my friends of varying sizes," she laughed hysterically, and fired.

Pow-Pow roared and covered the screams of the people she was shooting as she swung the machine gun easily around her thin body. The sheer euphoria of the bullets, the panic and the chaos, filled her up like beer in a bottle.

The running.

The screaming.

Her teeth bit into her lower lip in ecstasy as she laughed, louder and higher and shriekier (if that was a word) with every body she dropped.

Pow-Pow vibrated against her, the massive gun rocking back with recoil with every shot. Her stick-thin hands held it tightly, fingers twitching with euphoria.

Beside her, on the other side of the room, there were more screams. Fire lit up the corner of her vision as bombs went off, and she saw them ricocheting off walls. They came from Jamison's frag launcher - perfectly circular grenades that could hit walls without going off. In an enclosed space, that would cause chaos.

"Need me one of those," she muttered, yanking Pow-Pow back behind her and hoisting the massive maw of Fishbones onto her shoulder. The rocket-launcher hummed as she yanked on the trigger, aiming for the few remaining guards yelling and sprinting for the door.

"Three- forty-one! Nine, aaaaaaaaaaaand... LIFTOFF!"

Jinx loved dramatic effect.

What would life be like without dramatic effect?

Fishbones roared as a rocket spat from its mouth and smashed into the last few guards, sending fire and rubble several feet into the air. Even through the blinding light she stared, grinning in sheer euphoria, the explosion and screams and chaos reflecting in her purple-red eyes.

Nothing will ever beat this.

The smoke cleared as Jinx took a few steps backwards, breathing heavily. She slung Fishbones back down behind her with a grin and tossed her long braids back behind her with a dramatic flick. She glanced at Jamison, who was reloading his frag launcher.

"Not bad, peg leg," she grinned.

Jamison's gaze turned on her with a grin she recognized.

... He was like her. Huh. Different, but like her. That huge grin of pure euphoria, of ecstasy. He seemed to like bombs and explosions more than she did - there wasn't a single weapon on him that wouldn't blow a building halfway to Summoner's Rift. But he wasn't some normie, he wasn't an Enforcer. What kind of luck, hey?

And she would looooooooooove to know what that massive tire did.

Jamison headed for the door with a strange, crouched gait. He glanced back at her, gesturing to the exit that Fishbones had blown wide open, into white corridors with red alarms bathing them red. "Are ya comin, mate?"

Jinx grinned, twirling her Zapper. "You know what they say: ladies first."

Calling her bluff, Jamison strode into the redwashed corridors with a laugh.

* * *

Well, she was a strange one. But hey, she loved chaos and she was just as goddamn lost as he was. What could possibly go wrong?

As they sprinted through corridors tinted with vermillion, Jamison kept glancing at her. Just looking at her, you could tell she was a few screws short of a toolbox. A few screws short of human, too. Skin white as death, and eyes purple-red like blackberry juice and fresh wine - but the best descriptor was probably dried blood. He didn't even know it was possible to grow hair that long until he saw her twin blue braids, and he was still debating the possibility of being able to carry a souped-up machine gun, a rocket launcher, and whatever that thing was on her back. They were crazy oversized and undoubtedly heavy, and she was just a bone-coloured stick figure while carrying them.

And the rocket launcher looked just mean.

"So how's your day been?" she laughed nonchalantly as they skidded around a corner.

"Aw, just the usual, mate," Jamie grinned, playing her game. "Broke into a secure facility, lifted some goods, blew up some dimension-y thing and jumped through a hell portal. You?"

"Not much," she shrugged. "Blew up a concert, put steel in some Pilties, ripped a hole in reality fabric and went for a joyride."

Junkrat shook his head in wonder. She spoke really strangely - childish. She put a low, grumpy slur on some words like a three-year-old, but at the same time she meant every word. She was crazy, that much was obvious, but differently to him. He doubted hers was caused by nuclear radiation.

Maybe aliens were just crazy by default.

Zaurite, whatever she had called herself.

"You got a plan for getting out?" Jamison asked, his mechanical leg tapping loudly on the floor as they sprinted through the corridors, klaxon blaring in his damaged ears.

Before she could answer, they skidded around a corner, coming face-to-face with four white-clad scientists. They all had strange eyes in brilliant colors and clipboards. The four flinched, but before they could say a word, he and the bone-skinned girl had the exact same idea. She slung the massive machine gun down to train on them, and his frag launcher was aimed straight for the one at the front.

"So!" she giggled, before her voice turned to a snarl. "Who wants to show us the way out?"

Quickly, the one at the front - a woman with blonde hair and startling bright pink eyes - stepped in the way of everyone else. Her voice didn't waver as she said, "I'll show you."

"No you won't," blue-braids said with a crooked smile. A scary smile. "You would've led us the wrong way, wouldn't you?"

The woman just stood there, eyes wide. Fixed on the machine gun. Arms thrown out, protecting the people behind her.

The bone-skinned girl sighed heavily and aimed a strange, glowing white gun at the scientist's head.

She pulled the trigger.

A beam of white electricity arced from the gun and blasted the woman's head clean from her shoulders. She didn't even have time to scream, it was so fast - but the scientists behind her did.

"Alright you alien fucks," Jamison grinned. "Where's the way out?"

One of them, trembling, walked over to the white plastic wall and pressed his hand against it. Glowing white numbers in a different language appeared, before the plastic glowed white in a door-shape and melted away. Fresh air wafted in from outside, and that was the only cue Jamie needed before bolting out, blue-braids right behind him.

Into, without a doubt, the weirdest place he'd ever seen.

It was a city, but off. Strange. The roads were white, clean and almost porcelain in appearance, with tall white street lamps giving off blue light from sleek, curved poles. The sides of the smooth roads were lined with grass, every blade the same length, and then there was the buildings.

Smooth and white and pristine, they were moving. The walls were literally moving like water - they looked like towers of opaque white liquid, with ripples of colour flowing up from the base every now and again. A streak of red, or a line of green would appear for a few seconds like a lights show. When people approached the buildings, they solidified, and when they placed their hands on the walls, doors appeared.

He supposed that in some ways it was perfect. There wasn't a single chip in the road, there wasn't a smudge on the porcelain of the roads, not a mark on the tall, curving buildings. Everything looked like it had its place here. Perfectly in order.

He snorted. Vishkar would have flipped their shit for this place.

But the people...

They all looked human, at least. But it was their eyes that sent shivers down Jamison's spine. All in bright colours, purple, orange, blue, and with whatever looks they liked as far as he could tell. Catlike pupils on some of them, no pupils at all on others. Walking through their weird, weird, weird city.

And, of course, they all froze when blue-braids and he crashed out of the facility blaring a klaxon and with red alarm lights spilling from the door they had just run from.

"Time to bail?" machine-gun-girl asked.

"Probably," he replied with a grin, and they ran.

People screamed as they went past, leaping out of the way of the bone-skinned girl with a rocket launcher and the flame-haired man with a tire on his back. Jamison left a trail of destruction for once without even meaning it - smears on the street lights where they'd swung around corners, footprints from dirty boots leaving marks on the pristine roads and crushing the level grass under their feet. The perfect city was thrown into uproar as hovering vehicles roared down the roads after them, careening around corners and into too-well-lit white alleyways.

"There's a shady place in every city," Jamison muttered. "Just gotta know how to find it..."

And near-immediately after he said that, they rounded a corner and found what Jamison could only assume was a bar. From the people stumbling out of it with far less-than-perfect demeanour, it had to be.

"Look," blue-braids said, pointing at the insignia of a dome with ripples on it. "I think that's their symbol for a house. Looks like as good a place to stay as any."

They ducked in just as the wailing sirens turned the corner.

Inside was very different to the strange world outside. For starters, it wasn't all white and pristine - though the waitresses and bartenders were rushing around as if trying to make it so. But with the sheer amount of people here, there was no way they'd be able to keep it all tidy. The colourfully-eyed people were stumbling around, laughing, like they'd never been drunk before, pristine hair falling out of perfect buns and alcohol stains on a few pieces of pure white clothes.

Nobody batted an eyelid at Jamison and blue-braids - the staff were way too busy and the drunk perfect-people were too wasted to notice.

Nobody cared when they walked straight up into the hotel area without paying, either, and walked straight into one of the rooms.

The whole room was made of whitewashed wood, as if the place was trying to match the pristine outside but couldn't quite pull it off. There were two single beds, a carpet that looked like it had seen better days, and a door that Jamison assumed led to a bathroom. On one end of the room was a window that looked out on the setting sun, over endless rolling green hills that led to nowhere.

Jamison couldn't help snorting. "This is the most pretentious place I have ever seen in my goddamn life."

"Rubs my fur the wrong way," blue-braids agreed, slinging her massive machine gun down next to the bed she had selected for herself, before removing her rocket launcher too. She squinted out the small window. "Where d'you think we are?"

"Definitely not earth," Jamison shrugged.

Blue-braids cocked her head. "Where the hell is earth?"

Jamison stared. "Uh... you know. The planet. That we live on."

"Pretty sure that's Runeterra, genius," she rolled her eyes.

That's when the pieces clicked into place. What, haven't you ever seen a Zaunite before?

"You're not from earth," Jamison said, staring. "You're an alien."

"Come on, don't be rude," blue-braids snorted, looking over her machine gun. "I'm a Zaunite. Doesn't take a wizard to figure it out." She glanced up. "The name's Jinx. Stands for Jinx."

Jamison frowned. "How'd you end up here?"

"I told you," blue-braids sighed, annoyed. "Fat-hands set up a little trap to catch me, using stuff from the League of Legends. Only it was a dumb idea because how the hell was she supposed to see me while there's all of Piltover in the place? Anyway, I blow it up, the magic in the structure upsets spacetime and bam. Here I am."

"You're fuckin' joking," Jamison snorted, disbelieving. "Magic isn't real."

Blue-braids stared at him like he was the dumbest Junker on the trash heap. She rolled her eyes after a long moment, flopping back on the bed. "Guess fire isn't real now either, is it? What kind of place do you come from where magic isn't a thing?"

"Well I mean, there's no Zaunites," Jamison shrugged. "But there's these rustbuckets called Omnics." He spat the name. "They're robots, but they think and apparently they can feel. They're just pieces of metal shit waiting to be blown sky high."

"Hmph," blue-braids snorted. "Where I come from, Zaunites are the bane of humanity. Most of them have the decency to act like they don't, but hey-" she grinned. "That's where I come in. I have taken on the personal title of official dumb-Piltite-annoyer."

Jamison considered her. "What'd you call your earth?"

"Runeterra."

"What's it like?"

And thus followed a very, very long night of twenty questions.

If their time was anything like earth's, Jamie would have guessed it was 3am before they simultaneously decided to shut up and sleep.


End file.
